


Product Testing

by Anonymous



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: Blackmail, Derogatory Language, F/F, Pre-Canon, Psychological Horror, Rape/Non-con Elements, android dehumanization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25458508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: While Charlotte wasn’t in the business of storytelling, it was worth knowing the product that she would be supporting.
Relationships: Dolores Abernathy/Charlotte Hale
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9
Collections: Anonymous, Multifandom Horror Exchange (2020)





	Product Testing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aurae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurae/gifts).



Charlotte never much cared for theme parks. She liked the excuse to eat too many sweets and the adrenaline of rides, but she never felt the magic that some people described walking down the midway surrounding by bright flashing lights and cartoonish gimmicks, all too perfectly crafted to grab a child’s attention.

The main drag of Westworld was impeccably well-executed, but she still felt that that wall of cellophane, even with Eric's best sells.

“And here we have the saloon, for our adult visitors,” he said in a boisterous voice, and he didn’t wait for any input before ushering them through swinging doors. Again, very on the nose. Just dirty enough to sell, not enough to repulse.

The bartender was an older man with an impressively waxed mustache. He leaned over the bar and told Charlotte, “Now, just for you, I have a special treat. The Mexicans just came through last week, and they always bring the finest wares.”

Carefully, he squeezed a wedge of line around the lip of an old-fashioned glass then pressed it into a bowl of salt. The tequila was unlabeled but presumably of decent quality - “one hundred percent aye-gave” - and went into the cup with two tablespoons of triple sec then another of lime juice. It was a basic margarita, but a decent one. She sipped at it as Eric pointed out the finer details of the saloon.

Dolores, too, was right just right. Beautiful enough to strike. Voice sweet as cream as she explained her presence at the brothel with Eric’s prompting. “My father’s been unwell recently. I just thought it’d be best if I found a way to make a dollar or two while we wait for the harvest, and Madame Maeve always takes in a girl in need…”

“And after this visit, she’s heading straight back to the farm,” Eric whispered in Charlotte's ear. “This is an exclusive opportunity.”

Boys club initiation. Some things never change.

“Alright,” Charlotte said.

\- - -

Once some coins had been exchanged and Charlotte received a well-written speech from the Madame herself, they made their way up to one of the bedrooms. Dolores hesitated not far past the door.

“Is this your first time in Sweetwater?” she asked, fingers twisting in her skirt.

“You’re awfully shy for a whore,” Charlotte said instead of answering the question, then watched as the blush and shyness bloomed across Dolores’ face. It was impressive work.

“Well, I’m not sure I’d describe myself like that. I just like to spend time with people,” Dolores said so, so sweetly, eyes drifting to the floor demurely.

“Carnally. That makes you a whore.” Dolores’ chin dimpled in shame, and the look only deepened as Charlotte tore the top of Dolores’ dress off her shoulders then down to her waist. Her breasts felt warm and soft in Charlotte’s hands, and she gasped beautifully when Charlotte caught her nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

“Please,” Dolores whispered, “be kind. This… this is just my first day at the saloon, I haven’t…”

Even the most well-crafted replicas were just that - replicas. A reflection of someone’s idea of the real thing. Charlotte was sure, looking at the flickering uncertainty in Dolores’ eyes, that Westworld was the result of the best of the best craftsmen, and while she wasn’t in the business of storytelling, it was worth knowing the product that she would be supporting.

Charlotte undid the ties of her trousers, then pushed Dolores to her knees, twisted her hand into blonde locks. Her cunt throbbed in anticipation. “Don’t worry, I'm sure you’ll pick it up quick enough.”

\- - - 

They have a private cabin on the train ride back into civilization. Charlotte feels sweaty and dusty, but relaxed.

“It's all very impressive,” Charlotte told Eric, “but I’m still not quite sure what a high-tech Disneyworld has to do with me. It’s not exactly my specialty.”

“Your _specialty_ is exactly why I thought you’d be a bit sharper about the potential here,” Eric chuckles. He then pulls out a laptop and clicks around a bit before turning the screen towards Charlotte.

She goes cold. She sees herself from Dolores’ eyes, lustful, forceful. He doesn’t play the clip for long, but it’s not hard to imagine that the rest of it is there and has perhaps already gone through several hands to appear as perfectly clipped as it was on his desktop. 

“Blackmail is a bit cheap,” she said, face numb.

“Alright, Charlotte, it’s really time for you to sharpen up,” Eric said as he tosses her an envelope. She flipped open the cover and saw her basic info, the sort of thing she put in her resume. The next few pages held information she had not freely given but were nonetheless neither surprising nor hard to get your hands on, if you had the reach that Delos did.

The last few made up a profile that was obviously incomplete, but dense. Intriguing.

“And that is after one session,” he said. Bragged, really. “Knowing that you were on a business trip. Now, imagine people. Now that Delos has controlling interest in the company, we need someone who will truly understand the potential of Westworld, and every park after it.”

Charlotte flipped another page. The analysis was a bit Freudian in its assumptions about her choice in pubic hair maintenance and fertility, but he was right to say it had only been an hour, and clearly some hiring decisions needed to be made if they were still this fixated on sex as. This level of insight on a game of chess, perhaps… already, the doors this could unlock in the right hands were connecting in Charlotte’s mind: profiles, relationships, profits.

She closed the folder. He made a show of good faith in deleting the film of her and Dolores’ meeting, but she wasn’t so foolish to truly believe it was wiped for good. It would have to be a matter dealt with at a later date.

“Alright,” Charlotte said. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to hold off negotiations until we’re in more neutral territory. Would sometime around the fourteenth work for you?”


End file.
